Love & Other Drugs
by darkmorsmordreheart
Summary: A collection of mostly unrelated drabbles that are, in reality, too long to be considered drabbles, but I'm too stubborn to call them oneshots, so...
1. Reunion

**Author's Note:** Someone asked me to put my tumblr drabbles and things on this site, so here you go. This is posted under Mercedes and Sam because most of these will be Samcedes. Most of them, so don't say nothing to me when Spuck or something pops up randomly. Also, the title has nothing to do with the movie. I was just too lazy to think of something else. Okay, I love you. Buh-bye! _**-DMH**_

* * *

They lie together in her bed, cradled by moonlight and the smoke of Donna Summer's voice. _I love to love you, baby._

It hadn't been easy sneaking him into her room, but it sure had been worth it. Just to be able to lie in his arms, smell his scent, hear his gruff whispers again put her on a cloud higher than nine. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too. So much," he whispered back, touching his nose to hers.

She closed her eyes as his hand crept up her neck. Warm and large, it cupped her cheek and guided her easily into his kiss. His other hand lifted for her other cheek and she smiled into the embrace. She had always loved it when he kissed her like that. "You laughing at me?"

She shook her head, but continued to press her smile against his lips. "I love how you kiss me."

An affirmative noise left his throat, something between a chuckle and a moan. "You should be kissed every day, every hour, every minute."

"I read that book, you know," she laughed, scrunching her nose at him and giggling even more when he scrunched his back.

"Well, I saw that movie trailer," he admitted with a shrug, smiling when she laughed again. He pushed up on his elbow so he could have better look of her. "You're stunning. Gorgeous." A shy smile was quickly hidden from him, buried into a pillow, so he kissed her ear and the side of her face until it peeked out again. "I meant everything I said today. I believe in you."

Not wanting to answer him in tears, she instead snuggled against his side and laid her head and hand against his chest. He absently toyed with her fingers. "I love you."

"You do?"

She glanced up at him, his easy smile and hopeful eyes, and said, "I'll always love you. You know that."

His smile became sheepish. "I know. I just wanted to hear you say it again… I love you, too. I can't wait to see where your dreams take you. I can't wait to be there, holding your hand."

Raising both hands to claim his face, she lowered him into her kiss. Mindful that her parents were just a few doors down, he slowly moved over her as the kiss deepened. Her tongue was as sweet as her voice, so he sucked and sipped at her. Easily, her arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him closer. She made a space for him between her bent knees and moaned when the bare skin of her inner thighs brushed against the worn denim of his jeans. He missed that sound.

His hands crept down her sides, stopping at the hem of the large t-shirt she wore in lieu of pajamas and brushing his fingers against the skin of her hips as if asking permission. Hoping that the word "yes" was conveyed through her next kiss worked and soon she was lifting her arms to help him get the shirt off. He only paused a second to toss his own shirt away before lowering back on top of her.

"Yes. Yes, yes," was free to echo through the room as his kisses travelled downward and caught on the stiffened tip of her breast. She missed how much more beautiful she felt in his arms, how the utter look of euphoria on his face as he sampled her made her feel like a goddess. The presses of lips that next travelled up her neck were heavy with emotion. She felt loved and adored. Treasured.

"Do you want to?" he asked. His voice was calm and patient, but she could feel urgency and need vibrating through his body. She smoothed her fingers down his nape and whispered a yes. Quickly, he fumbled around in his back pocket for his wallet. "Take off your panties." He stood to take his clothes off and put on the condom, but kept his eyes on her the entire time. When they were both naked, he climbed back onto the bed and into her waiting arms. "I missed you. Did you miss me?"

"Mmhmm," she hummed because her voice was stolen away by the hand between her legs. His fingers were quicker than she remembered, maybe because of his excitement, but she liked it. His fingers were slick with her like of it. "Ohhhhh, more!"

"Shh," he whispered against her breast, but pressed a finger into her nevertheless. "Good? More?"

"I want you."

With the permission to proceed, he grinded against her wet center, slicking his hard length back and forth across her, teasing himself as well as her tiny button. Over and over again, her moans made him moan and for a moment they froze at how loud they had become. They rejoiced for the lack of bedroom doors opening by smiling into their kisses. Love you's were exchanged and he pushed into her, she pulled him into her and he sunk into perfection. Once he was fully inside her, he let out a shuttering breath against her lips.

"You feel good," she told him. He pressed his forehead against her shoulder with a groan. "C'mon baby… Move please."

Her soft words were usually calming, but when spoken hotly against his skin they did little to help his situation. He wanted to make it good for her, to make it last, so he started as slowly as possible.

She tried to encourage him by locking her legs around him tight. Her hips were eager and her hands touched him everywhere. But he continued his steady pace until his leisure made her beg for him. Her hands at the small of his back were responsible for his body suddenly pushing forward, but she was the one who fell victim to the movement. Her hands fell away to clutch at the covers beneath them, but his long strokes didn't falter – they actually seemed to pick up.

"Ah, baby! Not like that! I'll get loud." He apologized with a quick kiss and slowed his movements into gentle body rolls that she lifted her hips to meet. She could bite her lips against these moans; keep them at the back of her throat where they could become soft whines.

Those soft whines undid him, made him heady and drunk on her, so he reached for one of her hands and covered her mouth with it. It was a lot to ask God that her headboard didn't wake her parents, but he had been giving Him a lot of praise that night, so he decided to chance it. "Shh." He snaked his hands under and around her. Then he pushed his face into her neck, licked at the soft skin with a taste that time and distance couldn't erase from memory and pounded into her until he had to use his own hand to cover her moans. She was tittering on the edge, so he used his words to tip her over.

_I love you. You're stunning. You're amazing. I love you._

She shattered in his arms silently, so he dropped his hand and watched her mouth his name. Then he was tipping over and he was shattering and he was gasping her name.

"Mercedes… Mercedes…"


	2. Rehearsal

"If we pay your toll and listen to you sing this damn song, will you crawl back under your bridge and leave us alone?" Santana abruptly asked, interrupting Rachel's diatribe about how important it was to sing the _correct_ songs for Nationals.

Rachel tossed her shoulders back before facing the cheerleader. "I happen to think that 'The Way We Were' is a perfect song to sing at Nationals –"

"Because it's Streisand and you will sing it and we won't even be necessary as your doo-wops. No Rachel," Mercedes said as Sam draped his jacket over the bare legs her skirt revealed. She smiled at him sweetly, all thoughts of Rachel wiped from her mind. "Thank you, baby. How'd you know I was cold?"

"Come on, people! I'm sure we can figure out some routine that can showcase the talents of _all _our graduating seniors," Mr. Schue said pointedly from his perch on the piano. Rachel flashed him a tight smile.

"With all due respect, Mr. Schue –"

"Aww Lawd!" Artie said, tossing his hands into the air.

"– We also want to bring a win home for our graduating seniors. A win."

"Like the one you didn't get when you failed to get into NYA – Ow!" Santana pouted and rubbed her arm where Brittany had smacked her.

"Sorry. Bug," her girlfriend said, rubbing the reddened area.

"Maybe we could sing 'Love Bug'. A little Jonas Bros dance number," Blaine suggested and Kurt patted his arm with a smile and softly said, "Oh honey, _no_…"

"Why don't we just get Mike and Sam to do our choreography? Sam helped a lot during Sectionals," Tina said and the rest of the club nodded thoughtfully. "And I could get a solo."

"And the Troubletones get their shine, too," said Santana firmly.

"But I could get a solo."

Rachel ignored them all. "We're not going to get a win with overblown… urban… gospel runs – Or stripper moves!"

Silence.

This was usually the part when a "Hell to the no!" was interjected into the conversation, so every eye in the room – including Rachel's – travelled to the corner where Mercedes was oddly quiet. And then every eye widened.

The couple couldn't feel the eyes on them, so they continued what they were doing… under Sam's jacket.

"Sam! Hands where I can see them!" Mr. Schue barked, his expression a little outraged and a lot disbelieving. Coolly, Sam lifted his left hand into the air and, after licking his pointer and middle finger clean, lifted his right, too.


	3. Outrageous

**Author's Note:** This is Pikecedes. Meaning: Puck and Mike and Mercedes. Yeah, soak that shit in. **_-DMH_**

* * *

"Let me buy you a drink, Mama."

"No, gorgeous, I'll buy you that drink."

Mercedes glanced up at her two would-be suitors from her spot at the bar and smiled warmly. They were cute. Sexy, she supposed; the taller of the pair had a long, fit body under those dapper clothes he wore and the other, who was sporting a Mohawk, clearly had a body built for sin under his own careless attire. She opened her mouth to reply, but (lucky for them) the bartender arrived just in time with her drinks. "How about you split the difference for these between the two of you," she chuckled as she wiggled the two gin and tonics in her hands.

Her smile wider than ever, she turned gracefully on her six-inch heel and practically floated back to the table where her besties, Tina and Kurt, waited. Tina clapped her hands together when Mercedes pushed a drink in her direction, but Kurt was too busy trying to look around her to accept his glass.

"Diva, what did you do? Those two guys look like they're going to kill each other."

With a confused frown, she turned to see what her friend was talking about and, sure enough, the two men – who she assumed were friends – were still at the bar, standing inches from one another's face, making everyone around them nervous and looking seconds from throwing down. That is, they did, until the bartender arrived with shots and, suddenly, there were all smiles and brotherly shoulder punches.

"Just two goofballs trying to hit on me, that's all," she giggled as she turned back to her friends.

"I dunno, 'Cedes," Tina replied as she glanced at the guys. "The Asian one is definitely a cutie."

"Don't even, Tina. That one's the most adamant about looking at Mercedes' most magnificent asset," he told her, causing her to erupt in laughter as Mercedes clapped her hands over her burning cheeks and quickly climbed into the booth next to Kurt. "I don't understand what the issue is, Mercedes. Didn't you wear that freakum dress to be looked at?"

She glanced down at her outfit: a blue and green color-blocked strapless number that had her tatas sitting up real pretty and her hips inviting whistles every which way they swung. She pursed her lips and gave a careless shrug that made Tina start to crack up again. "Whatever. Let's go dance!"

Her friends quickly tossed back their drinks and followed her to the dance floor where they danced as inappropriately as possible until Tina got yanked away by some guy and then Kurt got yanked away by some guys and, finally, two arms wrapped around Mercedes' hips and pulled her back. She turned with a laugh to see what lucky guy was going to have the pleasure of trying to keep up with her tonight and found herself staring up at the two goofballs from the bar.

"Wha –"

"We decided to share," the Mohawked one informed her with a sardonic twist of his lips that made her side-eye the hell out of him. Before she could respond, the other one brought one of her hands up to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. She melted slightly after turning her gaze to him; those dark, glittering eyes of his were entrancing. "Will you dance with us?" he asked and she nodded slowly, causing his friend to snort, "Whatever, Mike."

Soon she was dancing between the pair – nothing too serious – with her back to Mike and her front to the other, whose name happened to be Puck. She smiled at him widely when he spoke the name in her ear; it fit him.

"You like Shakespeare, Mama?" Puck asked, suddenly making their good natured dancing a little more risqué by pulling her flush against him. She doubted he was going to start quoting The Bard, but Mike didn't even give him the chance to because he was pulling her out of Puck's arms and into his.

"You guys are too much," she said just before Puck pressed himself to her behind, sending her even closer to Mike (who didn't seem to mind).

"I shoulda been dancing on this side from the get-go!" He rolled his hips against her ass a few times then hid his face in her neck when the music suddenly changed from mindless pop to slow, winding beats. "Damn, Mama."

Her head seemed to automatically tip back onto his shoulder. When it fell back, Mike must have taken this as an invitation because his face was soon in the cradle of her neck not occupied by his friend. As if they had planned it, the men simultaneously began planting kisses on her skin. Puck was rather generous with his tongue while Mike was a man of words, telling her how pretty and gorgeous and perfect she was between each peck. Never once did either of them stop dancing against her. If anything, they moved closer, sandwiching her between them in the middle of the dance floor, in the middle of that crowded room where sex was as present in the air as the music was.

She found herself grateful for the sudden lighting change that occurred when the music slowed. Gone were the strobes and lasers – replaced with lazy beams of purple and blue that swung around the room slowly. She was so grateful for the dark even though she could still feel eyes on her, attracted to her moans and her whimpers. Then again, she was starting not to care because Puck was sucking on her earlobe and Mike was nibbling her collarbone and someone's hand was on her breast and another hand was sneaking under her dress and someone's knee was between her legs, rubbing against the useless shield of her panties and she wanted to get fucked. Fuck yeah, she wanted to get fucked!

Later, she would tell herself that she was not the one to drag all three of them through the crowd and into the ladies' room. Later, she would convince herself that the mischievous imp did it or the dapper gentleman in the suspenders guided her. Later, she would pretend that she hadn't shamelessly wiggled out of her panties as the boys – _her_ boys – ushered everyone out of the room and shut the door. Later.

But now, Puck was kissing her. He tasted like whiskey. Mike tasted like rum. Both men agreed that she tasted like maraschino cherries, so she supposed they were somewhat like a cocktail. She tossed her head back and laughed drunkenly as the men crowded her against the row of sinks.

Mike was a biter – a character trait revealed when he pulled down the top of her dress and fixed his teeth to her bared nipple. She whined when his tongue came into play, absolutely sobbed when Puck's mouth latched onto her other breast.

Puck was wearing a ring – she could feel the cold metal of it pressing against her clit as his fingers sunk into her wetness.

Puck was rather generous with his tongue. This was proven when he lowered himself to a crouch before her and buried his face between her thighs.

Mike was a man of words, whispering dirty things into her ear, telling her that she was naughty because she liked it when he pinched her nipples hard.

She heard the knocks on the door, the real world trying break in and stop this frantic, outrageous heaven she was finding wedged between two hot mouths, but she only let out a breathy laugh and ordered someone to fuck her and fuck her now and fuck her now and hard. She was turned around, her hands were placed flat on a mirror and she was told to watch. So she did.

"So," she said afterwards as she leaned back on a sink and watched the two men catch their breath and gather themselves together. "My place or yours… or yours?"


	4. Before Sunset

The wine! The music! The fashion! The food! The sights!

And the men.

Mercedes Jones thought she understood what she was getting into when she and her friends signed up for the Study Abroad program, but she was in no way prepared for the magic that was Venice. It was just one of many stops in many European countries - they had only spent a day and a night there – barely even that. She was already on a train, watching the city come alive in its lights and its people as she sent her farewells to it. She would miss it.

She smiled into her raised wineglass at the thought of missing the city. Maybe a decade later, she would be sitting in a dining car on a train similar to this or in a small café sipping on a glass of red and thinking back fondly on her youthful travels.

But she was much too young to think of it now, she decided. Now, she would be young. She would do new things. She would _experience. _She had a passport and a smile – she could do anything. That thought only widened her smile and as she lifted her head, she locked eyes with a young man caught – stunned practically – by her dazzling grin.

Her friend Tina had long since left to go back to their shared cabin, taking their absently sketched fashion designs with her. Mercedes had opted to stay where she was, munching on breadsticks and, of course, sipping wine and the handsome young gentleman who couldn't keep his eyes off of her was making her more grateful for that decision by the minute.

His hair was blond and his smile was shy; the rounded apples of his cheeks were flushed a ruddy color and the lips he bit nervously were redder than even that.

She downed the rest of her wine, a few deliberate sips that he watched carefully, then she stood and walked the span of the three tables that separated her from him. "Hi."

He looked at her as if she had flown to him, as if surprised that he couldn't see her wings. "Hello."

"May I sit with you?" she asked, straightening nonexistent wrinkles from the sides of her skirt and smiling inwardly at the way his eyes followed her hands. She loved her body – all of its generous curves – and she loved that he obviously loved it as well. His eyes were green, pale and like sage, and they were practically eating her up. She felt a pleasurable shiver go down her spine when he smiled and invited her to take the seat beside him.

"What's your name?" he asked. His voice was amazing, steady and deep. Sexy and controlled, it poured over her like red wine.

"I'm Mercedes. What's your name?"

"Sam."

She and Sam spoke for… it had to be close to an hour. They spoke about their studies since they were both obviously American students – hers was Fashion Design, his was _Graphic_ Design – and somehow that conversation morphed into one about Venice's architecture and that conversation became one about wine and that conversation became a kiss, soft and perfect.

"You taste sweet," he whispered against her lips before he pulled away from her slowly. His hand was on her bare thigh, pale against her brown skin, stroking it like it was delicate silk.

"I didn't have any dessert," she told him as she watched his fingers trace circles and swirls on her leg. "I could go for some chocolate, though."

"_Vorrei assaggiare il cioccolato._"

He leaned forward to press his nose against her cheek, to inhale her softly, to mingle his peppermint breath with hers and she smiled. "What does that mean?"

"I want you."

"Okay."

His cabin was in a different car than hers and when he opened the door, the sight of a surprised Asian man around their age greeted them. "Hey man," Sam said. "I think there's a cute waitress in the dining car that you might like to meet."

The man sent a slick smile to his friend when he spotted Mercedes peeking into the small space and he nodded, standing and gathering a few things before fist-bumping his buddy and disappearing down the long, narrow hallway.

"Good friend," she chuckled as Sam ushered her into the room and shut the door behind himself.

"Great friend. Best friend," he corrected while winding his arms around her middle and bringing her close. He kissed her slowly, one hand cupping her jaw as if it was made of sensitive crystal, the other tracing down her body as if delicately polishing priceless gold. She was the first to reach for clothes, the first to pull and tug and yank at them while standing in the middle of that little cabin. Her actions nearly toppled them over – they were on a moving train after all – but he steadied them and lowered them onto a small cot.

"You're so beautiful," was pressed hotly into her skin many times that long night. Pressed between kisses and licks and exploring little nips.

"You're so beautiful," she would whisper back, in between trembles and shudders, heavy sighs and labored breaths. "You're so beautiful, Sam."

* * *

_Nine Years Later_

* * *

Mercedes could not for the life of her think of a good reason why she was thinking of her one night with that amazing man… That was a lie. She could think of many reasons; she had, after all, screamed them to the ceiling that night. She smiled wickedly at her fond memories of lovemaking and sipped at her coffee.

She had always loved Paris in the fall, she had always loved this tiny café she sat in ever since the first time she had come here – on her college trip abroad. She smiled as more fond memories flitted across her mind and she absently flipped through a fashion magazine, paying little to no attention to the spread she was supposed to be critiquing for work.

She froze when a sudden shiver went down her spine, as if she was being watched. Just as she was going to turn to find the eyes that were to blame, a dark blue blazer was wrapped around her shoulders and a cheek was pressed to hers. Her eyes closed in pleasure at the familiarity of the man standing behind her.

And the scent of peppermint wafted through the air, carried by the words, "_Je tiens à le goûter le chocolat."_

* * *

**Author's Note:** According to Google Translate, both those things Sam said meant, "I would like to taste your chocolate" in Italian and French, respectively. I honestly don't know, but I'll just trust Google for now. **_-DMH_**


	5. You Give Good Love

**Author's Note:** This is very crackish. I was kinda mad about the Whitney episode. And there's mild Sartcedes action in this. **_-DMH_**

* * *

"You ain't got no Yeezy? Smells like there's some fuckery afoot. I'll fix it." Artie rolled away from Rachel and her stereo with his head held high, basking in the knowledge that his woman would have something decent on her iPod. He found her sitting alone in a corner, curled up in a large chair, giggling madly –drunkenly – at the phone in her hands. "Mercedes! Whatchu doin' girl?"

Her head lifted, shifting the curls that framed her face attractively as she smiled at him. "Hey Artie! Look at what Sam sent me." She flung her phone in his face and he had to arch back to get a proper look at the screen.

Oh hell to the no. "He's sexting you?"

She snorted into her red cup. "No! That's a picture of him from swim practice! Look at how little his Speedo is!"

"It only looks little because what's in it is so big!" Artie jumped at the voice. He hadn't even realized Tina was behind him, looking over his shoulder. He side-eyed her drunk ass. "It's like an optical illusion."

"A _penile _optical illusion!" Mercedes cackled and suddenly Tina rounded his chair and collapsed on top of her laughing friend.

"Where is Sam anyway?"

"He said he was heading over after his late practice."

"Karaoke!" Rachel shouted out of nowhere and, over all the groans, Santana's voice rang loud and true, "Who invited Smeagol?"

"Begone Satan! This is Rachel's house. Quit being rude!" Mercedes told her, but the cheerleader only shrugged and cuddled into Brittany's side. Helpfully, Brittany added, "Smeagols don't really sleep on top of their doghouses like in Charlie Brown, you know. That's a cartoon."

Rachel attempted to tap her cup with a pen to get everyone's attention, but soon discovered that Solo cups don't make too much noise, so she shouted for every to look at her. "Alright!" She gave a bright smile once everyone was rolling their eyes in her direction. "I'll start off the singing with my rendition of Whitney's rendition of the Star Spangled Banner."

"Oh heels to the nose!" Mercedes cried out, tossing Tina off of her lap and strolling to the stage in the center of the room. "Give me that mic, Berry!"

"What are you doing?" the affronted girl gasped after the microphone was snatched from her.

"Correcting some wrongs," the Diva told her as she fiddled with the Karaoke machine. "Where do I start… Here we go!"

The opening notes of "I Wanna Dance With Somebody" filled the air and, immediately, Artie tossed his hands up. "Oop."

The rest of the Glee club watched and listened as Mercedes began to belt out the dance hit. Flawlessly. Santana's mouth dropped open so she could shout something in outrage, but she felt Brittany shrug next to her. "I ain't even mad."

And no one could be mad. Because Mercedes was genuinely correcting wrongs.

"Messy as hell," Artie said when she sang "Saving All My Love" to Quinn. Quinn just smiled.

"Shade," Artie said when she sang "So Emotional" to Rachel. Rachel looked confused, but Santana stood and clapped.

"Rude as shit," Artie said when she sang "It's Not Right, But It's Okay" to Blaine while Blaine took video on his iPhone.

"Dayum," Artie said when she sang "I Have Nothing" to Kurt, but Kurt just nodded and wiped the fresh tears from his cheeks. As the last notes of the song faded, loud footsteps were heard clambering down the stairs.

"What I miss?" Sam asked and several pairs of red, misty eyes turned in his direction. The blond's face fell as he took in the expressions of all the drunk people. "Did someone die?"

Without missing a beat, Mercedes began to sing again and every head turned back towards the stage.

Sam frowned at first at everyone's strange behavior, but then he glanced up at his girl singing on stage and he saw that she was looking at him, her gaze piercing and white hot. He clutched his chest and watched.

"_Now that you're here_," she sang, swaying slowly. "_Like you've been before and you know just what I need. It took some time for me to see. That you give good love to me – Baby!_"

Sam's face scrunched up with feeling as he nodded. "I _do_ give good love."

As the song went on, Sam found himself getting closer and closer to the stage, until he was on the stage and Mercedes was in his arms crooning, "_Now I – I can't stop looking around. It's not, what this loves all about! Our love is here to stay – to stay! Baby, you give good love!_"

And everyone applauded when Sam knocked the microphone out of Mercedes' hand and pulled her into a kiss.

Except Artie.

Because Artie was not here for that.

An hour later, after they retired the Karaoke machine because no one wanted to get on it after Mercedes' concert, Puck suggested a game of spin the bottle. "Here are the rules. No rules. Kiss whoever the bottle lands on."

"But what if it lands on Dolly Parton here?" Santana asked, patting a scowling Finn on the arm.

"Yeah, I'm not up for making out with any dudes tonight," Mike said. "No offense. You guys are great, but no."

"Fine, guys don't kiss guys."

"But girls have to kiss girls. Y'all are not slick," Mercedes said. "It has to be even footing for everyone!"

"I wanna kiss girls!" Santana blurted and Brittany planted one on her cheek before blowing a kiss in a confused Joe's direction. "We gotta change the rules back to no rules."

"Fine! If you don't want to kiss the person the bottle lands on, you have to… do a body shot off… the…" Puck frowned and grabbed his head. "I don't want to think anymore."

"The person that the bottle lands on gets to pick who you take a body shot off of and kiss. No complaints," Quinn finished and Puck smiled at her gratefully.

Artie waited for his chance. He waited and waited patiently. Until… "Yo Art, you're up!"

Artie leaned forward from his throne of strategically placed pillows and spun the bottle. It landed on Mike.

"Nope."

"So who am I kissing?" Artie asked softly. All the while he was forcibly telling Mike to say "Mercedes" with the power of his mind.

Mike shrugged and turned to Tina. "You pick."

"Samcedes!" she giggled against Mike's side.

"Yay – Wait. What?" Artie shook his head. "You gotta pick one person!"

"I did! Samcedes!" Tina's drunk ass giggled.

"No complaints, man!" Puck barked. "Pick one to body shot off of and the other to kiss."

"I'm not sure I like the idea of either of the possible combinations," Sam interjected and Mercedes patted him reassuringly on the knee.

"He'll just lick you. That's all," she told her boyfriend and before he could open his mouth to complain she yelled, "Now take your shirt off! Woo!"

All the other girls joined in the Woos! as Sam peeled his t-shirt off and laid in the middle of the circle. It was strange lying in the middle of a brightly lit room with so many pairs of eyes on him. "I feel like a virgin sacrifice."

Mercedes snorted. "Virgin! Ha! Get the salt!"

"You are way too excited about this," Sam said to her as Santana poured salt into his bellybutton. Puck handed Artie the lime, Finn gave him the tequila, Sam was staring up at him in horror and Mercedes was… licking her lips.

Hell yeah.

Keeping his eyes on the chocolate-coated, leopard print-skirted prize, Artie bent forward and licked the salt out of Sam's bellybutton.

"Oh God," the blond moaned as his stomach twitched.

"Oh Gawd!" Mercedes and Santana moaned after seeing Sam's stomach twitch. "Just wanky, Sam!"

Artie quickly tipped back the shot and had barely sucked any juice out of the lime before Mercedes was yanking it out of his mouth and making all his dreams and wishes come true.

"Just… wanky!" Santana shouted as Mercedes tongued Artie down.

"Praise!" said Quinn.

"I don't know how to feel right now," Sam stated as he twisted his head to get a better look at the kiss. "Mercedes? Are you doing that tongue thing? Stop doing that tongue thing! That's the tongue thing _I _like!"


	6. Condoms

"You sure about that, KFS?"

Sam gritted his teeth and dropped his hand from the black box with the gold letters. How Puck snuck up on him, he didn't know. How _Finn _snuck up on him, he really didn't know. How he was going to kill the two of them, he was coming to know – Finn would go first and Puck would watch.

"Don't call me that," he sighed as he turned his back to the shelf of condoms and glared at his two supposed friends. Puck just smirked while Finn glanced around nervously. "What the hell are you two doing in here, anyway?"

A pair of shiny new fake IDs were thrust in his face. "Really? Buying beer at CVS?"

"Look man, my mother's friend Ice owns the place I usually go to and ever since he's been in AA, he recognizes me whenever I try to buy something," admitted Puck as he scratched at the tail of his Mohawk. Sam's eyes travelled over to Finn, who suddenly became very interested in _Her Pleasure_.

"Whatever, man," the blond sighed, turning back to the shelf and snatching a box of Magnums. "See ya."

As he could have predicted, a hand clamped on his shoulder and yanked him back before he could make his quick getaway.

"Once again, buddy," Puck chuckled as he paced around Sam. "You sure about that? Sure, Mama's got a lotta dangerous curves, but are you sure you can handle all that? How you gonna burn rubber if the rubber keeps slipping off?"

Outrage colored Sam's cheeks and burned to the tips of his ears at Puck's words and Finn's responding snort from behind him. "I don't want you to stay up all night worrying about my dick, Puck, so I assure you, it'll fit. No problem."

"Are you sure?" Finn asked in a controlled whisper, as if they weren't the only people in the store. "I mean, the first time I was with Santana –"

"No! Shut up!" the other two shouted, causing a woman who suddenly appeared at the end of the aisle to jump and scramble away from the trio.

"Look, I'll be okay."

"I'm just saying, sometimes you don't have to go that big," Finn hastily explained. "Coach Beiste was talking to a few of the freshmen on the team last week about sex-ed and junk and she –"

"She stuck her entire arm in a love glove," Puck finished because Finn's face was starting to look like a tomato. "Point is, KFS, you'll be okay with the smaller size. Don't be disillusioned."

After processing the fact that Puck was both smart enough to use the word 'disillusioned' in a sentence and idiotic enough to force this conversation with him (simultaneously), Sam shook his head a final time and said, "I was 'disillusioned' about my size the first time I was up here buying condoms half an hour ago because when I got back to Mercedes' and tried to put that shit on, it ripped. And I ripped the next three, too." He shook the box in his shocked friends' faces with a crooked grin that was more like a baring of teeth and growled, "So I think I'm good with the Magnums. Goodnight."

With a crotch grab and a "deez nuts" shake at his classmates, he turned and walked to the front to make his purchase.


	7. Fantasy

They collapsed back onto the bed – their bed – with twin sighs of relief.

"We did it," Mercedes said, amazement and awe making her voice soft. Sam turned his head slightly so he could look at her. She was staring at the ceiling, maybe staring even beyond it at her dreams and her future. This had been the right choice for them. He was never more sure of it. "California."

He nudged her shoulder playfully. "LA, baby. Hollywood."

"Blue skies and fame, right?" She turned her head to smile at him, her chocolate eyes twinkling warmly, but he saw the slight reservation behind them. "Right?"

He rolled over on top of her, smiling when she automatically spread her legs to accommodate and cradle him. His kissed her adorable nose, her plump cheeks and lips, all the while whispering, "You're going to be amazing. We've already come this far. No turning back. We're only going up."

He sat up a bit and watched her eyes dart carefully back and forth between his, searching for confirmation or truth or whatever until she finally found what she was looking for and gave him a wide grin. "I love you, Sam."

"I love you, too, Mercedes." He kissed her again, covered her mouth with his and licked along its seams until he got permission to enter. He could almost taste the optimism on her tongue. This move had been the right decision for them. He just knew it. "This is real, baby."

She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Not a fantasy?"

"The only thing with fantasies is our sex life. And I'll even make those come true."

"Will you now?" she asked coyly, her eyes travelling slowly over his face. They deliberately traced over his mouth, so he deliberately licked his lips to feel her shiver.

"You know good and well that I will," he said gently, even as his body grew hot and rigid on top of hers. "That I _have_. We might as well have called the drive here the Mercedes Jones' Fantasy Ride Across America Tour."

"Fantasy Ride Acr– Shush you!" she giggled, slapping him on his shoulders lightly. He dipped his head and licked a line up her neck that changed her giggles into one long moan and had her gripping his shoulders tight.

"Don't act like you don't know," he chided into her skin. Her pushed his hands under the t-shirt she wore – his t-shirt, he noted with satisfaction – and lifted it up and over her head. Grinning down at her in her pretty, yellow polka dotted bra, he decided that that moment was a great moment to christen the bed… and maybe every other flat surface in the room. "Do you want me to show you?"

She bit her lips against an excited smile, but he could still see it. He kissed at her mouth until she revealed it. "Show me, Sam."

It never took him long to get her naked. She often complained about it only because she was usually the one stuck with the task of finding her clothes wherever they so haphazardly landed: lampshades, ceiling fans, behind Kurt's headboard that one time… So soon, she was naked and ready beneath him, wiggling and writhing against his own bare skin while he reminisced aloud about the Mercedes Jones' Fantasy Ride Across America Tour. "Do you remember that night we reached Chicago and you wanted to go out?"

"Mmhmm," she hummed, too preoccupied with what his fingers were doing to her breasts to speak real words.

"And somehow you talked us into the VIP with no IDs – that's star power, baby," he chuckled. Then he had to chuckle again because of the way she was reacting to his light pinches. "Remember – Shit! You're tits are so pretty! – Remember how I fucked you against that speaker, baby? Right next to the DJ booth, where anyone could have seen us?"

"No one saw us!" she managed to get out just as he sucked her nipple up like a chocolate kiss. He stared up at her, smirking against her breast.

He pulled back and asked, "Are you sure about that?" He took the opportunity to climb back up her body and stick his tongue into the mouth gaping at him. She accepted the kiss with a soft whine that emanated from the back of her throat in a way that drove him crazy. "Remember when we went to that little grocery store and fucked in the bathroom? And then the owners were looking at us all crazy 'cuz you went and paid for the whipped cream and strawberries they never saw us get? I sucked your clit so good that night. Didn't I, baby?"

"Oh God, Sam yes!" She tossed her head back as his lips took a familiar path down her body and between her legs.

He spoke his next words against her inner thigh with a devious smile stretching his cheeks. "Remember that random Ludacris concert we went to when we met Puck in Vegas?"

"Yes!" she cried out when his fingers spread her open.

"Tell me what we did," he breathed against her wet pussy right before diving in.

"Oh God! Oh God! You – Sam! You – Ahh!"

He lifted his head slightly to prompt, "We were dancing and then what did we do?"

"I t-told you th-that I wanted you," she said slowly, watching him lick her off his damp lips with wide eyes. He began lowering his head again, so she added quickly, "And you put your hands in my jeans and-and – Ohhhh!"

He kept his eyes on the sight of his fingers sinking in and out of her, pumping her, and asked, "How about that time at the movie theater in – No! That time in that barn in Nebraska! You liked being on your hands and knees in there."

"Sam, please." Her voice came out in a frustrated growl. He could understand why. Her hips had become a machine of perpetual motion, rolling and lifting into his hands as if it was his fingering of her G-spot that gave her the energy to do so. He kept his fingers slow and curled them occasionally – he was almost surprised that there wasn't more bite in her voice.

"You wanna come?"

"Yes!" she gasped, so he climbed up the bed and around her, adjusting them until his back was against the headboard and her back was against his front. He threw her legs over either of his and spread both pairs apart in one swift movement. "Sam, yes," she approved when his hand reached for her weeping center. She let her head fall back against her shoulder and moaned prettily for him to fuck her with his fingers.

"You're my dirty girl, aren't you?" he whispered into her ear, nuzzling her soft lobe. Little hands shook as they searched for something, anything to clutch. Finally, they settled on his arm, grasping tighter at his bicep every time he twisted his hand the right way. "My perfect dirty girl. Who likes to get fucked in cars on the sides of highways." She hissed at the reminder and arched her body. "You like being in the backseat with all the windows all up. You like being fucked like that? Fogging up all the windows because my dirty girl couldn't wait to get to a hotel? Could you? Say you needed it."

"I needed it!" His fingers were working overtime and cramping the rest of his hand in the process. But it was worth it – it would be always worth the feel of her hard clit grinding against the heel of his hand or the sound her soaked pussy made when it sucked up his digits. "Sam, I need it!"

"I'll get you there, Mercedes," he muttered. He pressed a kiss against her ear before telling her in a low, fierce voice, "I'll make you come. I'll make you come until you scream and then I'm going to fuck you on the floor. You like that, naughty girl?" She did like it. The body twisting and shaking in his arms told him that she did, so he continued, "You gonna come on my fingers? Come on, baby. Say my name when you do it. What's my name, baby? What's my name? What's my name?"


	8. Numbers

Sam never knew he could become so obsessed with numbers.

When he was younger and his dyslexia was more frustrating, numbers were nothing but lines on paper meant to chain him to the notion of failure. The only important numbers were the large red ones circled at the top of tests under the words "Come speak with me after class" and the lacking ones on his paychecks. Zero had become the only number in his life and for a time, he hated numbers.

So how surprising it was, years later, to find out that five and ten and twenty could fill his heart so completely?

Five little toes on one foot. He counted them with kisses. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Five more on another foot. Ten toes and ten tiny fingers with twenty little nails that he loved to gloss his thumb over.

Two eyes, green like his, staring back up at him, perfect and happy.

One head of countless brown sugar curls.

One gummy smile with two new teeth, shining up at Daddy.

He never knew he could become so obsessed with numbers… and then his heart, so full of love for one, showed him that it still had room for two. And he knew, in the coming years, there would still be room for more.

Five little toes on one foot. Five on another.

Infinity in his heart.


	9. Superman I

**Author's Note:** AU & angsty. **_-DMH_**

* * *

"Sammy! _Sammy_! Do you want a spanking?" Mercedes yelled as she jumped up from the park bench and marched across the playground to snatch up the tiny green-eyed boy that was yanking on a girl's ponytails. "Stop being a bully! You know better than that!"

Sammy's little golden face suddenly flamed with red as it scrunched up in preparation for a tantrum, but Mercedes was not even entertaining it. "Little boy, I have had enough of you today. We are going home!"

"Mommy no!" bellowed the four year old when Mercedes picked him up. She ignored the hot tears and snot that were staining her t-shirt and running down her neck and waved goodbye to her friend Tina who was still sitting on the bench, watching her own children play on the swings. She took Sammy to the car and buckled him in. He was just reaching the end of his tantrum when they got home, reduced to a few sniffles when she opened the back door and helped him unbuckle his seatbelt. "I'm sorry, mommy," he said in the sweetest, softest voice she would ever hear. She smiled at her baby and wiped his wet cheeks before planting a kiss on each.

"Come on, little boy. I know you're hungry after all those tears."

Sammy was playing with his Legos in the living room and she had just taken some chicken out the freezer when the doorbell rang. With a frown and a sigh, she shuffled out of the kitchen to peer through the front door's peephole. "The fuck?" She opened the door, but kept the chain locked. "What do you want?"

Green eyes narrowed at the chain and the barely opened door. "Seriously?"

"What do you want, Sam?" She looked him up and down slowly. "You get sick of trying to make people like you, again?"

"Can I see my son?" he asked and her eyes widened in surprise.

"You know good and well not to just come over whenever you feel like it."

"Then maybe you should answer my calls."

Mercedes rolled her eyes and started to close the door again. "Bye."

"Let me see my son," he growled, wedging the toe of his boot between the door and its frame before it could shut completely. Her mouth dropped open in astonishment.

"Check your tone."

"You check yours. I just came to see Sammy, not to fight with you."

"Are you sober?"

He flexed his jaw and nodded. "Yes."

She looked him up and down a final time then nodded. He pulled his boot back, so she quickly shut the door and unfastened the chain. When she opened the door to let him in, the frown on her face had deepened into a scowl. He stepped around her into the foyer, glancing around as if looking for anything to have changed since the last time he was there.

He looked tired. He always looked tired. Like he was working too hard to keep up with himself. Maybe it was the way he held his lanky body, slightly slumping, or the premature baggage he carried under his eyes. The circles weren't as heavy as they had been last time, she noticed. Not as dark.

"Where is he? I brought him a present." He lifted a bag she hadn't noticed before.

"Living room."

He nodded and disappeared into the next room, humming the Superman theme. A happy shout of "Daddy!" rang out into the hall, so she bit her lip and went back into the kitchen.

"Sammy! Come and eat!" she called out half an hour later when the food was finished. She smiled at how quickly her baby dashed into the room. He was seated at the table before she had even set his plate down. She patted his mop of dark brown curls and told him, "Eat all your green beans and you can have two cookies for dessert. Alright?"

He nodded and proceeded to stuff his face with the vegetables. She walked to the sink and was still smiling even as she started scrubbing dishes. Until a tall shadow fell over her.

"Do I get to come 'n eat?"

She didn't even bother glancing over her shoulder. That must have bothered him because suddenly, he was crowding her against the sink, his front to her back, his arms wrapped around her middle, his cheek on top of her hair. She tensed in his hold, but then deliberately relaxed herself. Because her baby was in the room. "Yeah Sam. Get a plate."

"Tell me how you've been."

"Busy. Go get some food," she said softly. She didn't want to be in his arms again. She had been so unsuspecting; it wasn't fair to have both her tears itching to get out and her heart suddenly racing up to her throat. She didn't want to play this game. Not in front of her son.

"I missed you," he had the nerve to breathe into her ear.

"Stop it." She dropped the dish she was holding into the sink abruptly and reached for a towel to dry her hands. "You don't get to…"

"I can't say that I missed you?"

"Where have you been?" she asked, turning slightly to look at his face.

"I sent you money," he whispered.

"Where have you been? Who were you with?" He didn't answer, just dipped his head a bit and caught the corner of her mouth with his lips. She melted pathetically. Disgustingly. Allowed him to turn her in his arms. Let him tease her lips open, taste her tongue.

The sound of fork dropping jolted her back into reality and she yanked herself away from him to look at her little boy. Sammy was still sitting at the table and he was looking at her with wide eyes. "Mommy, I dropped my fork."

Her throat grew tight, so she nodded instead of trying to say something. Sam got to the fork first, so she just opened a drawer a pulled out a new one. "Need more rice, Sammy?"

He shook his head, wild curls flying everywhere. Sam reached out to stroke them with a smile. His large hand ruffled that hair, sent their son's giggles into the air. Sam sat to watch their son eat, so she made him a plate and then made hers.

* * *

He stayed until she tucked Sammy in that night. Even read him to sleep with a comic book. Superman, of course. Superman was Sammy's favorite. He had the pajamas, he had the posters and he had the action figures. All thanks to his dad. His Superman.

Not hers, though. Superman ain't saving shit.

Sam stayed to tuck his son in and then he climbed into her bed that night.

"Do you still love me?" he asked between soft kisses. "Yeah? You do?"

It almost felt like making love. That's how gentle he was. All fingertips and grazing lips.

"Don't cry," he said much later as he leaned against the headboard. He was looking down at her, playing with the ends of her hair as she curled up against his chest.

"Shut up."

"Can we just lay here without you starting something? I mean, I just busted a nut a minute ago. God."

She sat up and glared at him. "Don't talk to me like that! Not after what we just did."

"Why? Because it was important?" He sighed as soon as he said it and was reaching for her as soon as more tears brimmed her eyes.

"Get out. Get out!" Before she could yank herself away, he grabbed her by the wrists and tugged her onto his lap. "Stop it."

"I'm not doing anything. I'm sorry." He pressed the words to her lips, softly and sweetly over and over until she relaxed in his arms again. "I'm sorry. I love you," he said even though she shook her head.

"Stop it," she muttered when his mouth travelled to her neck. How easy would it be to tell him that she didn't love him? To lie and tell him that she didn't want him? She moaned for him instead. "You drive me crazy."

"You drive me crazy, too. God, baby," he growled, rolling them over until he was on top of her. He sucked a brand onto her neck and slipped inside her again. She wrapped herself around him, arms tight around his shoulders, legs clamped around his hips, begging with her body for him to save her. Save her from him. She felt like she was a little girl again, seeking comfort from the hands that just disciplined her.

He only ran away and hid behind bottles and women when she reminded him to be himself with her, so she let this man pretend to not love her because tugging on her pigtails was the only way he knew.


	10. Superman II

**Author's Note:** Continuation of last chapter. Still AU & angsty. **_-DMH_**

* * *

It was a little after two in the morning when her phone rang that Saturday.

"Hello?"

"Can you come get me?"

"Sam?"

She could guess his next words, almost mouth them exactly. "I fucked up. I'm sorry."

Hang up the phone. Go back to sleep. It should have been that easy. It was two in the morning. "Where are you?"

She called her mother, begged her mother to look after Sammy.

You should be ashamed of yourself. Her mother didn't have to say the words for Mercedes to hear them. She _felt_ them.

Her mother's voice was resigned and quiet only because her husband was sleeping next to her and he had an early shift in the morning. Mercedes knew this and felt selfish.

Waking her little boy up was the worst of it. After packing a bag for him, she sat him up on his Superman sheets and steadied his teetering body with one hand while putting his tiny feet into socks and shoes with another. He sucked his thumb drowsily, attempted to keep his eyes open to see what she was doing, but she didn't even know what she was doing.

She could have killed herself when a sob suddenly escaped her. She bit the inside of her cheek until the kind of pain she was feeling was eclipsed by the physical. That was a much easier pain to handle. She picked the four year old up and cradled him to her chest. "Come on, little boy."

It only took ten minutes of navigating naked streets to reach her parents' house. Sammy was asleep again when she pulled into the drive, so she carried his deadweight up the steps and to the front door, stroking her fingers down his loosely hanging limbs and rubbing her cheek against his. Her mother was already standing in the doorway, so when she reached the porch, the screen door swung open and Sammy was pulled away from her as easily as a ragdoll.

"You can come and get him when that man is out of your house," was all her mother said before the door closed in her face. She rushed back to the car in need of an enclosed space, some kind of shelter with walls that she could lean on.

She didn't cry.

She found Sam sitting on a curb with his head in his hands, parked the car and waited until he looked up and recognized her. It took him five minutes to even register that there was a car next to him. When he finally climbed in, he didn't look at her and muttered a few words that she was pretty sure that even he didn't understand.

She took him home and helped carry him in.

She left the lights off. She didn't want to see anymore of him than what she already had. The rings around his eyes were astonishingly black even in the dark of night and they made his eyes so pale and green. Wounded. She felt weak just catching glances of them during the ride to her place, so there was no way she could look at them in a bright room. His head probably couldn't take it anyway. He rubbed at his temples as he sat on the armrest of the couch, watching her set up some blankets and pillows.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing."

"Did you take something?"

He sighed heavily and wrapped his shaking arms around his middle. She winced when she realized he had lost weight since the last time she had seen him. "I just drank."

"And what else?"

He frowned as if offended by her accusing tone, but replied, "I smoked a little."

"That's it?" She glared at the frustrated huff he let out.

"There might have been something in it." He shrugged. "I dunno. I'm tired."

She straightened the sheet under her hands one last unnecessary time and stood to leave, but his hand wrapped around her wrist and tugged her. His grip was weak, but she still blamed it as the reason she walked back to him. He climbed off the couch and lowered himself to his knees on the floor.

"Sam…" He had his arms coiled around her middle before she could even think to pull away. He pressed his face into her soft stomach with a content sigh and all the tension that stiffened his shoulders released from his body and soaked into hers.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she told him, rubbing her hand over his hair, brushing it from his closed eyes so she could remind herself how tired he was, how frail and broken. "C'mon, Sam," she whispered, moving them until she was sitting on the bed she'd just made for him and he was still mostly on the floor, save for his head in her lap and the arms wrapped around her.

She waited until after he fell asleep to cry.

They were both tired. They would talk in the morning.

No use showing him what his kryptonite eyes could do to her now.


End file.
